


Tied

by Kanene_Rose



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/F, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mention of blindfolds, Mild Language, Multiple Orgasms, Object Insertion, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16265870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanene_Rose/pseuds/Kanene_Rose
Summary: Porn without plot. Disclaimer: I don't own Ocean's 8 or any of its characters.





	Tied

The bedroom door was suddenly thrown open and Lou strode in, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a lighter in the other. You hadn’t moved— _hadn’t_  or  _couldn’t_ , it didn’t matter. Her eyes scanned your body slowly, from your toes, which twitched in anticipation under her scrutiny, up your joined legs; she paused a moment to stare at your cunt, then again when she reached your breasts, but skipped over your face completely. All the while, that lopsided smirk grew, its mischief reflected in her darkening eyes.

“How do they feel?” she asked, watching as your fingers toyed absentmindedly at the ropes. Her voice as a low, husky timbre—a gentle growl, equally possessive and caring. “Your wrists alright, I mean?”

Her eyes finally flicked to your own; they softened.

She all but whispered, “You can answer.”

“They’re not what’s sore.” Your voice cracked from disuse and you had to clear your throat, turning awkwardly to cough into your shoulder. But as your arms were pulled tight above your head, you were only able to divert your gaze; your chest jolted as you tried to be rid of that awful gravel in your esophagus. Compared to Lou, with her effortless grace and indescribable gravity, you felt dissonant—unsexy, loud, and…unworthy.

Her weight was suddenly bearing down on your middle, fingers delving into knots above your head.

“I’m alright,” you mumbled, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

Lou hadn’t bothered to put on anything below the waist—her button-up nearly reached mid-thigh, and there was little chance, anyway, that she’d be spotted on her way to or from the bar; you could feel her pussy, damp from your last round, leaving spots of cum on your sweat-stained skin as she worked at the ropes. Her shirt was mostly left undone and, as she pulled slowly back to sit completely upright, leaving you tied to the headboard, you became fixated on the V of clean, white skin that contrasted so beautifully against her zaffre top.

“So,” she smirked, “what exactly  _is_  sore?”

Grabbing the vodka from where she’d dropped it on the pillow beside you, she leaned back, pressing further into your lower stomach, and took a swig.

“You can answer,” she teased, once the burn of the alcohol had diminished. She placed the bottle on the nightstand.

“I know, I just…”

“You get so close, but you never actually say what you want.” Lou swept her bangs from her eyes, revealing her hairline, which was damp—you hadn’t noticed before, but it prided you now to think that, if nothing else, you’d given her a workout. Lou Miller didn’t easily sweat. Or moan. Or orgasm… “Use your big girl words.”

You bit your bottom lip.

“I…” you whispered sheepishly. “You fucked me too rough. It was so hard not to scream.”

“What exactly is sore?” she repeated. You felt a shift in her attitude: she was ready to start again, she just needed that final push. Her fingers started working at the buttons on her shirt and you watched as, inch by inch, her chest and stomach were revealed to you. She threw it to the floor, beside her other clothes.

“My pussy,” she indulged her, though it sounded more like a question than an answer. “Whatever you used, it was so thick.”

She laid down, pressing her torso flush against you and keeping her lips so tantalizingly close to your eager mouth, but would not kiss you. Not yet.

“You can scream this time,” she whispered.

Her warm breath ran down your cheek, your neck, your chest…you almost didn’t notice her hand trailing across your hip toward your core. And it was then that you both realized that she was too close to you—your legs couldn’t open, because hers were pinning them together. With a grace you couldn’t fathom, she lifted herself off of you, separated your legs with her own, and began to grind down on your cunt until the wetness between you was so thick you could no longer make out the details of her pussy, no longer figure whether it was her lips or her clit or her entrance that she rubbed against you, seeking her own pleasure.

Out of habit, you had closed your eyes and bit your lip, only to stifle your moans.

Then Lou’s knuckles joined your rhythm; she was touching herself, forcing her between you. With every thrust of her hips, she both drove her fingers deeper into herself and rapped against your clit. You bucked up toward her, hoping to be filled, but she grew stiff.

“Fuck,” she hissed, grasping at your legs for balance. “(Y/N), I’m… _fuck_.”

The tension slowly left her body; you opened your eyes and watched her, her back arched and muscles taut, steady her breathing and begin to fix her posture. A minute later, she became fixated once again on you. She climbed up your body, dragging her wetness across your skin, and laid above you with her arms wrapped around your own.

“Here,” she said, holding her fingers out for you to take in your mouth. You did as she wanted, sucking on each digit until her taste had all but vanished.

Lou finally kissed you—gentle, but possessive, her tongue roamed your mouth, running over every surface, tasting, teasing, hoping to incite some sort of dominance in you, but you had none to give. Without a fight, she moved on to your throat, nipping and sucking until little pink and faint purple marks began to appear; that at least got you bucking. You could feel her smile against your skin.

“Good girl,” she purred. Then her weight shifted and you felt one hand running up your side; she stopped at your breast, ran her thumb tentatively on its underside for some time, contemplating what she would do next, ran her palm gently over the nipple, then—

“ _Fuck_ ,” you whined.

Lou had bitten latched onto your neck, wearing her teeth into the skin as she sucked, her mouth obscenely wide, letting go with a wet  _pop_ —at the same time, she had also dug her nails into your hardened peak, pulling and moving it around just enough to get a satisfying friction. This, she refused to let go, though her tongue was already laving the spot on your neck that would undoubtedly be bruised.

Your eyes closed automatically; you threw your legs open, hoping to invite her to finish her teasing and move on, giving you the orgasm she’d denied you earlier. But she refused, of course. Rather, Lou replaced her nails with teeth, nipping then soothing then biting the nipple over and over until you begged, not to cum, but for her to switch breasts. She immediately obliged.

But you were getting too close; if she wasn’t careful, you were going to come, whether or not she had given you what you wanted most. Lou sat up—to your chagrin, eliciting a guttural whimper—and crawled up the bed to sit directly above you, one leg on either side of your arms. With her stance so wide, you could see her lips spread out, the sheen of cum and patches of dark blond stubble hidden between her folds. As she forced herself closer to your face, you became cross-eyed and, instead, chose to stare straight up at her, meeting her determined gaze.

Her hand slid down between her legs and she spread herself further with her index- and middle fingers. She closed them over her clit, pinching the delicate nub, then used one fingertip to pull back the hood; she was playing with herself, you knew, with no intentions of having you take initiative—not without orders—and so you took her by surprise when you leaned up, running your tongue over her exposed clit.

Lou’s hips jolted forward. It was as if something had suddenly snapped; she grabbed you by the hair—she was practiced at this, of course, and would never do this if it meant  _really_  hurting you—and pulled your toward her cunt while grinding down onto your mouth and chin. She was wet from her previous orgasm and the scent was intoxicating. Your head was swimming. With all these combined sensations, you could do little more than offer your tongue, running it over whichever parts she directed towards it; you delved between folds and sucked on her clit whenever she was still enough, moaned into her cunt, kissed it…

But Lou kept moving, burying your face further and further, making it difficult to breathe. You could feel her cum dripping down your cheeks when, finally, her entrance fluttered and her fingers tightened around your hair; she pushed down into you one last time, letting out an airy moan. 

As she got off of you, you realized that you still hadn’t gotten inside of her.

“That was so good of you,” she praised, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to your lips. After she was finished, Lou had a way of softening…she became so much more gentle, more  _romantic_ , if that was the right word for it; she would kiss you and bring you to orgasm with her fingers, or untie you so that you could grab her head while she ate you out. There was always a sense of proximity, of togetherness, and it was more fulfilling than anything she could do to you physically.

Tonight, she laid her head on your chest, pulling the covers over your naked bodies.

“Oh,” she muttered, as an afterthought. Lou sat up just enough to undo the ropes that bound your wrists to the headboard, then laid down on you once more. Her fingers ran teasingly over your sensitive clit; within a minute, your deep, panting breaths grew into a single moan, and you tensed beneath her. “Good night, sweetheart.”


End file.
